


but running is part of the fun

by hugducks



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Background Lydia Branwell/Isabelle Lightwood, Companionable Snark, Cop and Criminal AU, Cop!Alec, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alec Lightwood, art thief!Magnus, like mild violence? mostly flirting, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugducks/pseuds/hugducks
Summary: Alec Lightwood is the White Collar Crime unit's best agent. His track record is immaculate, and he kinda hates that his latest target is really. Really hot.orFive times Magnus slips out of Alec's grasp, and one time he doesn't.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Isabelle Lightwood, Lydia Branwell & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 24
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Magnus gets away, it’s thanks to Jace fucking up. 

It was a simple case, really. Alec knew it was only a matter of time before he and Lydia got assigned to Bane. The man was a shadow, if that – he was a being of rumor and revelation, and the only thing linking him to the various art thefts around the world was a simple signature, written in gold ink. 

(Mass spec had helped them narrow down the manufacturer and the few retailers that sold it. It proved to be a bust, because every socialite from Manhattan to Tokyo has stockrooms of the stuff.)

The case started small and made its way up the food chain alarmingly quickly. Bane’s ego is boosted – he says as much after slipping through their fingers in Berlin – but the more they learn, the less real he seems.

So, yeah. Alec wasn’t surprised. One of the few transfer pairs in the White Collar Crime unit, he and Lydia had a tendency to look into their cases in a slightly… different manner. Their higher-ups don’t quite mind their unorthodox methods, because if one thing’s for certain, it yields results. 

(Lydia can’t wait to get back into Organized Crime. After a year in rehab, her shoulder is almost better and Alec’s knee is making progress, but they both know it’s going to be a while.)

Three and a half months of late nights and working weekends later, Agent Alec Lightwood, seasoned veteran of the FBI, has a gun pointed at an incredibly attractive man with a cheshire grin and he knows the universe isn’t going to let him have this.

“Darling, if I didn’t know better I might’ve thought _you_ were the artwork I wanna take home.” Bane’s eyelashes flutter in their innocence, and Alec _isn’t_ getting lost in the man’s golden irises.

“This is Lightwood, I need backup at my location.” Alec takes a step closer, and Bane grins that lazy grin, eyes twinkling. He slips his hands into his pockets, leaning against a marble statue that Alec’s sure is worth millions, and goddammit if it isn’t hard to keep his eyes on Bane’s face.

“No, really,” he continues, ringed hand coming up to brush a stray hair out of place. 

Alec lets himself study the man – hair spiked up with subtle gold streaks, tight fitting maroon trousers and a matching blazer that hits his mid thigh, a loose black button-up open down till his mid-chest. His eyes are lined with smokey kohl and everything is definitely fine.

Alec swallows, and it’s not because Magnus Bane is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever laid eyes on. No, he’s a seasoned thief with a plethora of crimes under his belt and he’s going down.

Bad choice of words.

“You’re not the first agent to come my way and you’re not going to be the last, darling.” Bane tosses a coin, head tilted, watching Alec like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

“Then you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Alec shrugs, and lets the tension melt out of his shoulders. It’s a simple truth, and seems to intrigue the other man, who narrows his eyes.

That damn _smile_. 

“Lightwood,” the man muses. “Any relation to Maryse, by chance?”

Alec quirks a brow, but isn't that surprised. His parents’ criminal history was one of the many factors that pushed him into law enforcement. “Her son. Alec.”

“Lovely,” Bane murmurs, lost in thought. “Tell her I say hello.”

“Tell her yourself,” Alec shrugged. “Dad’s stuck in the same prison you’ll be going to soon.”

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

Bane’s eyes follow Alec as he takes another step. There’s an easy silence between them, punctured by a smooth, “I’m a fan of your work.”

The statement is enough to ruffle Bane’s facade, because surprise momentarily flashes on his face as he asks, “Oh?”

“Met from two years ago. _The Gulf Stream_ , I think it was called.”

Bane tries to hide a growing smile with an unreadable mask, but it doesn’t quite work. He looks down, fiddling with a ring. “A beautiful piece,” he agrees. “It was such a shame when it went missing. Forever a hole in my heart,” he ends dramatically, hand thrown against his forehead.

There was nothing attractive about the way Bane threw his head back. Nothing at all.

The thief either doesn’t notice his train of thought, or is kind enough to ignore it. Instead, he shrugs, easily slipping back into the silver-tongued viper. “The FBI only has evidence to lock me up for four years. I will neither confirm nor deny any other accusations.”

 _Hmm_.

“So, Alexander,” he starts, “I assume you’re going to be the one to cuff me?”

A blush creeps up Alec’s neck. “Didn’t know you were a voyeur,” he responds. “Another thing to add to your file.”

“A file, you say?” His fingers flutter in delight. “Do tell.” He cocks his head. “How many pictures of me are in it? Ooh, I hope you got my good side.” He considers for a moment. “Can you describe my outfits, I need to know how poorly my fashion translates over stalker pics.”

Alec’s not entirely sure what to say. Yes, he knew the file almost by heart – occupational hazard. _No,_ he decides, _Bane is just being himself_.

“ _Alec, we’re coming to you._ ” He almost sighs in relief.

The previous joy turned to a reserved tease. “Time’s up, I gather?”

“Unfortunately for you.”

Bane nods solemnly. “I’ll miss looking at that sweet, sweet ass.” He gestures to the side. “Mirror.”

Alec glances back and feels his lips turning up.

Bane slips a hand into his blazer, in a motion Alec almost doesn’t catch, pulling out a piece of cardstock and a black fountain pen. 

“It’s a collector’s item,” he says as he writes, paper resting on the base of the statue. “Crafted with a bit of the moon brought back with the Apollo 11.” The gold ink glimmers in the light as he lifts the paper and blows slightly. He caps the pen in a fluid motion and slips it back into his suit.

“Because space rock is so… invigorating,” Alec deadpans.

A laugh breaks out of the other man, and Alec can’t help at the smile tugging at his lips.

“I appreciate the effort, really, but you must know you’re not getting out of here with me. Many have tried.” His eyes flash, and his voice lowers to a purr. “All have failed.”

“There’s an exception to every rule, sweetheart.”

Those gold eyes darken, and Alec barely hears the, “What I’d give for that exception.”

He’s about to respond, but–

He can hear the echoes of Jace’s team making their way down the hallway and into the gallery, hear the thumps of regulation boots on marble floor. Jace barks orders like he was born to, and everything is just how they’ve planned.

Everything is fine.

And then Alec snaps back to the present and sees Bane’s grin shift into a smirk, and Jace is swearing in the background and the room is filled with smoke.

Alec whirls around, eyes squinting as he tries to follow the light sound of Magnus’s footsteps. A hand brushes over his shoulder, and there’s a whisper in his ear, too faint to understand in the ruckus of the scene. 

He blinks as the haze clears almost as quickly as it came. And blinks again, trying to keep the laughter in as he drinks in the sight of Jace bent over, wrist and ankle cuffed together. His brother swears at him and tells him to _move his ass and help him out_ , and it’s all he can do to refrain from taking a picture.

Alec soon sobers and the team falls out, bracing for a scathing response from the branch director. Jace grumbles something about grabbing a beer, and Alec dreads the piles of paperwork that await him on Monday morning.

It’s not till he gets home that he realizes there’s a foreign paper in his pocket, and his heart stills. 

_Of course_. 

He pulls it out, greeted by the ever familiar lettering, with its swooping E’s and heavy G’s. He doesn’t know whether to laugh out of admiration or yell in frustration. 

> _Maybe next time we can do that thing with the handcuffs._
> 
> _Call me, Alexander ;)_
> 
> _\- Magnus Bane_

Gold ink stains his fingers and then his phone as he punches out the number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other parts should be coming out really soon, ngl. This piece will probably be done within the next week, I hope?
> 
> Y'all I'm gay and in distress. School's over, idk what to do with my life, it's kinda hard to get a job rn and I'm trying and failing to sign up for courses over the summer. However, I have gay fanfiction to Cope. Here's to hoping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas day leads to an interesting raid. Alec and Magnus get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tropes, yknow. Tropes.

The second time Bane gets away, it’s because Alec has one pair of handcuffs and a murderer to deal with.

It starts innocently. Four months after their first encounter, Alec is sitting around a plastic Christmas tree and subtly slipping bourbon into Jace’s hot chocolate when the call comes. 

Or: four calls come at the same time to different people and Alec knows he’s probably going to be eating microwaved leftovers in a sad replacement for holiday cheer once everything’s over.

From the looks Lydia, Jace, and Simon give him, at least he knows they can wallow together.

“I’m really sorry guys,” he rushes, running to the closet to grab a pair of shoes. He slips out of the pajamas and into jeans, shoving a piece of french toast in his mouth as he flits through the kitchen. 

Lydia and Jace are running in a similar frenzy; Alec’s taken to storing some of their stuff for situations just like this. It’s funny, almost, how in sync they are; a machine running so smoothly it’s as if they were all just one part.

Alec grabs a backpack, plants a kiss on top of Izzy and Max’s heads (ignoring the “gross, I’m 18, fucker”), and all but herds his co-workers out the door. Simon waits by the elevator with him, still clad in flannel sweatpants, as Lydia and Jace kiss their girlfriends their respective goodbyes.

“I’m going to _kill_ Bane,” he grumbles as they make their way to the subway. “Absolutely murder him.”

“This could be good?” Simon offers, already checking the details sent to him. “I mean, we’ve been trying to close on Belcourt for like. Three years? Four?”

“Camille’s linked to three assaults and a murder, Si,” Lydia snaps over her thermosed eggnog. “We don’t know what Bane’s having us walk into.”

“Plus, he ruined Christmas,” Jace adds.

“I’m Jewish. I only come for the friends and the free food.”

Their phones buzz again, and the four are silent for the rest of the journey to headquarters.

The building is surprisingly busy for Christmas day, and half the agents populating the lobby are dressed rather festively. Simon peels off to the tech division, and the three field agents make their way up to the mess that is the offices. 

“Lightwood, you’re out in five,” Underhill barks. Bane may have been the focus for the past year, but Belcourt was an even bigger prize.

It’s a simple enough task, and Alec’s pulling on a vest and piling into a van within minutes, trying not to think about the last time he followed this drill. He focuses, instead, on what Bane’s playing at, practically giving them Camille. 

Maybe it’s enough to take a player out of the game, but Alec isn’t so sure. He’s only met the man once, but months of study gives him a pretty good idea of how he operated. No physical harm ever came of his operations; emotional distress, maybe, from whichever heir of the hour he’s stolen from, but even that fades as they move on to another toy.

Besides, Camille isn’t nearly as graceful as Bane. Her crime scenes are littered with tools and bodies, a layer of rage the smoking gun. Bane leaves only a note, written in that damned gold ink, but even that isn’t enough to concretely link him to the crime. 

Alec starts as the van stops, wondering when he started respecting his target. It doesn’t matter, because he shakes off the thought as the team barges into the apartment building. 

Some patrons gape as they flood the elevators, stairwells, half of them brandishing the warrant like a shield and half holding onto their guns. Others just raise their brow, sip their coffee, and go back to the latest scandal to hit the news.

Six teams pile into the respective lifts, one per floor of the penthouse, each with a backup team. The remaining two flood the lower floors and stairwells, making sure escape would be a pain in the ass.

Everything is going precisely to plan. And yet. Something’s wrong.

The apartment is far too quiet for Alec’s liking. The lights are off, the walls adorned with paintings and portraits. If not for the odd shoe or lipstick tube, it would’ve been impossible to differentiate the place from a museum.

He shrugs off the feeling – first mistake – and proceeds to the east wing, sending the rest of his team to scout out the smaller rooms – second mistake.

The kitchen is spotless, though there is a spare cutting board in the sink. Alec’s slightly surprised – people with that much money rarely cooked for themselves. 

He marks it off as ‘clear’ and moves quickly, gun up as he enters what he assumes to be the more residential parts of the loft.

Of all the places he’s raided in his time with White Collar, Camille’s would have to be the deadest. Least personal. Most gray. 

Third mistake. Never get comfortable.

The world turns as Alec’s jerked to the side, eyes wide. He stumbles into the room, ducking just as a knife comes for where his head had been. “What the _fuck?!_ ”

Camille Belcourt is objectively attractive. She’s also, without a doubt, one of the most terrifying people he’s ever encountered, Lydia included. Especially when her teeth are bared and bloody, and her knife is large and most definitely in experienced hands.

She slams her free hand on a button Alec hadn’t noticed, and _LOCKDOWN PROCEDURE_ is blaring through the penthouse as metal bars descend by the door. 

He’s trapped.

Her smile moves from rage-filled to full-on fucking feral.

_Ah, shit._

Note to self: don’t bring a gun to a knife fight, especially when you’re trying not to cause major bodily harm.

Camille swings high, trying to reach Alec’s head, and he ducks again, pushing in the direction of her motion to get her off balance.

It’s successful, but she spins around into a stab, leading into another deflection. 

Rage builds as she can’t get a solid hit, and Alec takes the opportunity to dart in and kick at her knee. There’s a mutual groan of pain as she collapses to the floor and blood flies off Alec’s shin, but the knife clatters out of her hand and Alec knows he’s got her.

And he should have her. It’s simple math: he’s easily a foot taller than her, and is mostly muscle. She barely reaches 5’ 3” without heels, and wears pencil skirts so tight they’re almost impossible to move in. 

Fourth mistake.

The air is forced out of his lungs as she springs up with a ripping sound, kicking him as hard as possible in the solar plexus. He’s wheezing as she lunges for the fallen knife, and Alec does the first thing that comes to mind.

He tackles her.

There’s a thick _thud_ , and Alec rolls away, carefully propping her body up and checking for a pulse. _Good_. 

_Shit_.

A quick scan of the area tells him it's a glorified bedroom. It’s bigger than his first apartment, but he wasn’t filthy rich. He also didn't make bolting his tables down to the floor a habit, but he’s not complaining as he cuffs Camille to a leg, propping her up against the side.

When Alec steps back, wiping sweat off his brow with a sigh, he doesn't think to give the room a cursory scan. Final mistake.

He doesn’t have time to register what was happening before he’s slammed against the wall again, hands cuffed around a support beam that was definitely not a stripper pole.

When he finally grabs a look at the second attacker, he’s swearing, because _goddamn_ he should’ve expected it.

Magnus Bane leans back with a small smirk, pulling a blazer over his elegantly ragged tank, and Alec Lightwood is ready to scream.

“What. Are. You doing here.”

A shrug. “I had to make sure you made good on my info.”

“You could’ve done that from a distance,” Alec snaps. 

“But this is so much more fun, darling. And we never _did_ quite get to the whole handcuffing thing you talked about earlier so…”

“Why don’t you give me my hands back,” Alec says with a sickly sweet smile, “and we can get right to it, sweetheart.”

Bane just laughs. “I did my research,” he says, and if Alec had his hands free there would be nothing stopping him from throwing a punch at his infuriating nose. “Knew your parents back in the day, didn’t wanna risk dealing with a second generation of them.”

“Please, tell me what moisturizer you use,” Alec deadpans. “You look soo much younger than you must be.”

Bane smirks, preening at the compliment. “Started young. Caught your folks at the tail end of their career, and the beginning of mine. I’m only twenty-eight.”

Alec waits.

“Twenty-nine. _Barely_ , okay.” He pouts, blinking at Alec with long lashes. “I have less wrinkles than you do, old man. You’re what, my age? Frown less.”

“Twenty-seven. And frowning is part of the job.”

“Wine. Wine is part of my job. Wine, champagne, and a little bit of tequila if I’m getting frisky. Frowning is _rarely_ part of the job.”

Alec shakes his head in exasperation. “You’re an asshole, y’know that?”

Bane squints at the ceiling, muttering in a language that Alec couldn’t understand. “At least I’m a cute one.” He glances at his watch, then at the door. It’s a move that’s almost imperceptible – almost.

Abso-fucking-lutely _not_ on Alec’s watch.

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried lifting any of the pieces here,” Alec butts in. “They seem expensive.”

Bane waves a hand. “Half of them are fakes. I’d know.”

“Because you stole them for her?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Because I’m quite the art appreciator.”

“Mmhm.”

“Some of us appreciate the finer things in life, Alexander. Not everything has to be ‘ _guns and ammo_ ’.”

Alec bristles at the insinuation, ignoring the accuracy. “And not everything has to be ‘ _money money money_ ,’ yet here we are. At least Camille, here, has taste,” he adds. “ _Solitary Bonsai_ really makes this place feel a lil less like she’s gonna try and murder you.”

“Oh puh- _lease_ , there’s no way she has _Solitary Bonsai_ , I got to it before she could even _dream_ –” he cuts off, giving Alec a _look_ , and it definitely didn’t make him feel things.

Nope.

“Fuck you,” Bane grumbles, but there’s a level of respect in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “It’s been a while since you guys managed to get me to slip.”

Alec makes a show of counting. “That’s another two years,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “Minimum.”

“Not if you don’t catch me.”

“Evading arrest just adds to your sentence, you do realize.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Statute of limitations. Plus, don’t we all live for the thrill of the chase?”

“I live for being able to relax _after_ the chase, and before the paperwork hellscape that’s prepping for the trial.”

“If you hate your job so much, darling,” he drawls, “I could always use a companion.”

Alec’s hands still with the rest of his body. There must be something wrong on his face because Bane is immediately backtracking, worry evident, and it’s _all_ he can do to keep from snapping.

“Alexander?” 

His eyes flicker up.

“I’m sorry if it was too much, are–”

“It’s fine, it’s just.” Alec screws his eyes shut, jaw flickering. “Say that near the wrong people, and they might actually believe it’s true. There are… a lot of those people here right now.”

The tilt of his head is an obvious question.

“My dad was ex-Navy and my mom was the US attorney of the Southern District of New York and they fucked up hard. You’ve had what, twelve, thirteen years in the business? I was fifteen when the FBI was able to build the case against them and take it to court.” Bitterness stings his tongue. “You don’t forget some things.”

There’s a short silence, and Alec can’t bring himself to look at the other man. 

“I’m sorry,” Bane whispers.

“You knew them, didn’t you? If you felt you had to read up my history,” Alec laughs dryly. “I’m sure you heard what happened to them.”

A flinch at that. Alec almost feels bad.

The man composes himself in an instant, and there’s something deeper in his eyes when he opens his mouth. “I–”

There’s banging by the reinforced door, and the moment is broken.

Bane shrugs, adopting a mask of neutral indifference. “Some people deal with shitty parents by being better people than they could ever dream of. Good people. Others,” he says with a smirk, “just get better at their parents’ trade.” At Alec’s questioning gaze, he elaborates. “Most thirteen year olds don’t start picking pockets because it’s fun. And it usually doesn’t turn into their career path before they’re adults.”

Silence takes the room again, but this time it’s different. Less stilted, more understanding.

“Why are you helping us?”

“Hmm?” Ba–Magnus looks up.

“Why give us Camille?”

He hesitates, twisting a ring. “I trust you,” he says finally. “I’m not exactly sure why, but I do. And I think you’ll make sure Camille can’t hurt anyone anymore.” His hand drifts unconsciously towards his ribs, and Alec kicks himself for not realizing earlier.

“You two were a couple.”

A stiff nod. “I keep my private life and work life separate, if that’s what you’re wondering. You’re not going to get anything out of her.”

Alec finds himself shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant you… You didn’t deserve whatever she did to you.” _He'd seen the reports_ , he wants to say. _He knows what can happen behind closed doors_. 

“Yeah, well,” Bane straightens, “pain isn’t a good look on anybody.”

Alec’s too preoccupied to remember to pick the cuff’s lock.

A beep breaks the silence. “That’s my cue, darling.”

Alec doesn’t even realize his mouth is moving as Bane turns away. “Magnus.”

The man looks over his shoulder, light dancing through those golden eyes.

Alec clears his throat, frowning in an attempt to get the words out. “Thank you.” He shifts, trying to read the look on Magnus’s face.

The other man just tilts his head. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs, thrumming his fingers on the counter. He’s about to say more, but the banging increases in intensity and his eyes flicker to the door.

He waits a beat, shoulders making to leave but feet staying firm on the ground. The silence builds, and Alec wonders what will happen when it drops.

He fills it instead, with a, “I hope you weren’t planning on taking the exit behind the fireplace.”

The wicked grin lights up his eyes, and the following sentence is smooth and tinged with a challenge. “As depressing as it sounds, I was planning on going back into the closet.”

And with that, Alec is left with just the memory of a glittering wink and a slowly growing cramp in his left leg.

A piece of paper flutters to the ground as the metal bars slowly creep away. The team follows quickly, and the relief on their faces is evident. There’s some fuss about how Magnus was able to cuff _both_ the Lightwood brothers, but the sheer fact that they have Camille means their spirits can’t be dampered. 

Alec lets himself keep the note for a moment before he finds the evidence baggers.

> _You’re welcome for Camille._
> 
> _I’ll call you next time, darling._

The gold ink (dry, this time) is a signature of its own, and as Camille comes to and Lydia’s team takes her away, Alec can’t help but grin.

Magnus Bane may be the unrivaled champion of this game, but he’s about to have stiff competition for the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solitary Bonsai by Eyvind Earle! I know nothing about art, I just look shit up and then namecheck whatever looks cool, but it’s very pleasing. I have a thing for palettes with cool colors, but I def prefer warm tones. But still, it’s a really nice painting.
> 
> Also this’ll probably take a little longer to finish. Maybe three to four weeks instead of one? Sorry y’all.
> 
> As a martial artist, accurate fight scenes make me happy. However, I can’t write them well at all.
> 
> In other news, I can’t go to BLM protests because my household has too many high-risk individuals, JK Rowling is a TERF who says she’s supporting lesbian rights by being a transphobic shit (as a lesbian I denounce the shit outta this), and my tumblr is @hugducks if u wanna watch me yearn and also yell at me.
> 
> thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec tries to have a relaxing day at the beach. It doesn't work out that way.  
> tw for homophobia. not graphic, no slurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for homophobia. not graphic, no slurs.  
> i'm insecure about my writing, please tell me how to make it better.

The third time Magnus gets away, it’s because Alec’s off duty (and he honestly doesn’t give a shit).

Well, off duty is a stretch. The bureau takes note of the fact that Magnus only ever talks to Alec, sees the few vacation days he’d taken in the past five years, and decides to give him an all-expenses-paid trip to Santa Cruz. For two weeks.

The fact that Bane is likely in the area doesn’t factor into their decision at all, they claim, and Alec shakes his head, packs his gun, and makes them add a second room for his sister.

Lydia can live without her girlfriend for two weeks and Max is nearby for college, anyway.

Alec can do with a tan.

It’s why he lets Izzy drag him to the boardwalk, even though his knee is too swollen to let him get in the water. 

He doesn’t, however, feel like doing “fun stuff,” and Izzy, tired of the day’s attractions, has taken to bullying him about it.

“You’re boring,” Izzy says flatly, kicking sand in his direction. 

Alec groans, rolling further into the shade of the umbrella. “I’m _relaxing_.”

“Bitch, you got two weeks off thanks to your knee. Take advantage of it.”

Alec looks up, face scrunched. “What’s there to take advantage of? It’s not like the sand’s special.” He pinches some between his fingers. “We have sand back home.”

Izzy sighs. “There are cute guys. With abs. And you can win shit by shooting other shit.”

“Or I could read,” he offers, waving his book around. “Simon recommended _Good Omens_ and you _did_ want me to watch the show with you–”

“You’re so gay.”

Alec fixes his sister with a glare. “You have a Pinterest board filled with pictures of cats, dogs, and tattoos. You’re just as bad as I am.”

“Rude,” she jabs a finger at him, flopping down onto the towel spread on the ground. She nestles into his side, staring into space. “Just, please,” she mumbles, “please take it easy. You work harder than they deserve.”

“Yeah yeah,” comes the reply, but there’s no bite to the words. 

He’s thinking of saying more, but a harsh ringing cuts through his haze of thoughts.

Izzy jumps, fishing her phone out of their shared backpack, face twisting at the name flashing back at her. “I swear to _God_ I’m going to murder whoever told Eloise I was in the area.”

“Instagram?” Alec offers, yelping as Izzy kicks sand towards him. 

“I have to take this,” she glowers, grabbing a hat and a loose white cover up as she saunters towards a more quiet area. “ _Hi, Eloise, it’s_ so _nice to hear from you_ ,” Alec hears before she makes her way out of ear shot.

Figures. 

Alec stretches out under the umbrella, picks his book back up, and waits. 

Sure, he may be on vacation, but he’s also really not.

It’s why he’s not surprised when a smooth voice asks, “Mind if I join?” and feels the blanket dip as a body slides next to him.

Alec sighs, straightens his sunglasses, and very pointedly doesn’t look at Magnus. “I’m not working.”

“And I’m not work,” Magnus counters.

“Yes. Yes you are.” 

Alec can feel Magnus’s pout without looking, and it’s all he can do to stop his smile. “Fine. I’m work. But you came to me, not the other way around.”

Alec can pinpoint the moment he gives up and lets his book drop to his chest. There’s a slight grumble as he rummages around his backpack for a bookmark, sticks it in place, and pushes himself up on his elbows.

“Fine,” he says finally, face riddled with annoyance. “We’ll talk deals, then. And in my defense,” he adds, “I wasn’t happy about coming here. I’m getting paid overtime though, so. That’s nice.”

“Glad to see you love me too,” Magnus swoons, eyes alight with amusement. “And hey! I’ve been well, thanks for asking. You?”

“Just peachy.”

“Good to hear, darling.”

Alec huffs, nose scrunching. “Business, remember?”

“You’re on vacation, Jesus Christ,” Magnus rolls his eyes. “All work and no play.”

“It keeps the criminals away.”

Magnus sighs, examining his nails. Alec can see the lightbulb go off in his head.

“Fine,” he says, eyes glinting with undeserved victory. “Question for question. I’ll be honest. Pinky promise. You get dirt, and I’ll get answers.”

Alec pretends to mull over the offer, but it’s not a hard decision. Magnus is his case, and anything helps. “Alright. Question for question.”

Magnus grins that maniacal grin, and Alec wonders if he just made a huge mistake. 

“What happened to the knee? The first time, I mean.”

Alec snaps his head around. “How?”

Magnus shrugs, fiddling with a ring. “Saw you walking here with that girl–”

“–sister–”

“–with your sister. You’re on crutches, but you’re not exhibiting signs of excess strain in the rest of your body. Since most people get upper body tightness, I’d assume it’s an old injury.”

 _Huh_. “I used to work Organized Crime,” he starts, wincing at the memory. “I assume you’ve heard of Valentine Morgenstern and the Circle?”

A nod.

“I brought him down.”

Brows flick up in surprise at that one.

“The Bureau had been in contact with me throughout college and they had enough on the Circle that they felt they could take it down for good. Morgenstern, on the other hand… they didn’t have enough on him. They had a number of agents undercover, but none could get close to him.” He shrugs, digging his fingers in the sand. “My parents were Morgenstern’s most used fence before their arrest, and they hadn’t turned on him during the trial. So they sent me in.”

Magnus’s fingers entwine with his. Alec shakes off the feeling twisting in his gut.

“Spent a year and a half undercover, graduated college early, and managed to get enough intel to warrant several life sentences. What happened to the rest of the Circle is rather well known.”

“Yeah,” Magnus scoffs. “Most of them are gonna be locked up for the next few decades.”

“Yeah, well,” Alec says drily. “Not all of them. Quantico was happy to accept me, Lydia and I were a great team, and Organized Crime took us in a heartbeat. We made quite the name for ourselves.”

Guarded eyes meet Magnus’s sparkling gold. “Valentine doesn’t forget. Had a three month stay in the hospital. Lydia and I transferred to White Collar once we were deemed fit for duty.”

Magnus cocks his head, mulling over the onslaught of information. “Why are you still with them, then? I assume the latest retrigger was due to work?”

“You,” he answers simply. “You’re the biggest case right now, and Lydia and I are the best.” _And the knee still isn’t fit for Organized Crime._ _Not if he ever wants to get out of an office._

“Flattering,” Magnus grins. “I’m glad I can keep you, darling.”

Alec just shakes his head, falling into an easy silence with the other man.

It’s nice, he realizes. To be able to just be, and not worry about judgement. He hasn’t felt this way with anyone in a long time.

A single sentence snaps him out of his thoughts. “Singles club at ten o’clock.”

Alec glances over, face screwing up at the group of women staring at them and giggling. “This is why I hate coming to the beach.”

“Because hot girls fawn over you?”

He shakes his head. “Because I don’t get to sit in peace.”

“You can’t be _so_ oblivious to all the people who would die for a night in your bed.”

“I’m gay,” Alec replies flatly, looking down his nose at Magnus. “Very. _Very_ gay.”

“Still,” he says, grin unchanging. “Many people.”

Alec waves off the implications. “Irrelevant.”

“Very relevant,” Magnus contests. “Unless you’re off the market, in which case…”

Alec buries his face in his hands. “I don’t see how _my_ dating history is relevant–”

“So, single–”

“–Shuttup. How about we talk about _your_ dating history, so I can clear up some things with Records.”

“Right! You have my file. Pleeeeeease tell me they’ve at least noted that I’m a freewheeling bisexual.”

“I will if you turn yourself in.”

His brows furrow, mouth pinched, and lets a seriousness wash over his features. “I considered it,” he admits. “I’d likely only end up serving a year or two, with good behavior and such, and then I could be out. Wouldn’t have to keep looking over my shoulder.” 

Alec looks over, head tilted in innocent intrigue. “Why not, then?”

“Because they’d kill me,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I’m not too interested in dying.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” The hard edge of Alec’s training is back in an instant.

Magnus hesitates, eyes flickering around the beach. He leans in, breath whispering against the curve of Alec’s ear, when it happens.

A shadow falls upon Magnus’s turned form, and Alec knows exactly what’s going on.

He looks to be maybe Izzy’s age, straight blonde hair held back with a dollop of gel, stubble growing along his jaw. Sand clings to his legs, and he’s clad in only board shorts. Alec sees a group of similar guys staring daggers at them from their own little encampment.

“Eau de fuckboy,” Magnus whispers in his ear, and it’s all he can do to keep from snorting.

The man above them sneers at the sight. “Family friendly beach, fuckers. No one wants to see _that_.” The last word is punctuated by a wave of the hand, pointing to all things _them_. 

If not for the tension hidden in Magnus’s neck, fists, Alec would be fine with just telling the man to fuck off and get on with the day. But there’s something about seeing the confidence waver into fear, even momentarily, that makes Alec want to throw something.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

 _May I?_ Alec mouths, lips barely moving. 

He doubts the asshole notices the slight dip of Magnus’s chin. He doubts he cares.

“Baby,” he drawls, fingers lacing with Magnus’s, eyes locked with the man above them. “Know what he’s talking about?”

Alec can hear him biting back a smile as he replies, “Not at all, sweetheart.” There’s a squeeze on his fingers, and Alec doesn’t let himself second guess as he leans forward and draws Magnus in.

It’s sweet, at first. Awkward. The moment they touch all Alec can think about is how his lips are chapped compared to Magnus’s silk, how there’s a feeling in his gut that’s leaping with emotion, and how he definitely has to ask Magnus what cologne he uses.

 _It doesn’t mean anything_ , Alec tries to tell himself as Magnus slides his free hand around his back, locking him in, _it doesn’t mean anything_. He can almost believe it, as he plants his hand into the ground next to Magnus’s head, can almost believe it as he frees his fingers from Magnus’s grasp, bringing it up to his face, but–

Magnus’s hair is soft, save for the occasional roughness of sea-soaked fibers. It tangles around his fingers, tracing along his palm, and then Magnus gives Alec’s lip a teasing bite and any ounce of restraint vanishes from his head.

Every point of contact with his body sends Alec’s alight. Magnus’s hand around his neck, his waist, his fingers wrapped around that _perfect_ hair, Magnus’s lips on his. (They taste sweet, laced with vanilla and secrets, and Alec doesn’t know how he lived without it.)

There’s wildfire roaring in his chest and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Alec breaks away, breath mingling with the man below him, he’s quite sure the wild _want_ in Magnus’s eyes is mirrored in his. Alec glances away and _oh_ , he has _abs_ , and–

There’s a cough behind them and Alec all of a sudden remembers exactly where he is, and what he’s doing.

“Are you done,” the man growls, red creeping up his ears. He looks positively uncomfortable. Good. 

“Nope!” 

Alec keeps his gaze on the other man his nostrils flare and his eyes curdle with hate. “Fuck you.”

“Nah,” he says easily. “Leave.” Every ounce of his training is poured into making him _back the fuck off_ , and the man’s resolve wavers.

“I–”

“ _Now_.”

He holds himself with uncertainty, and gives them one last glare before making his way out.

“Thank you,” Magnus murmurs, leaning into Alec’s chest.

“Of course.”

There’s a small smile gracing his lips as Magnus glances towards the boardwalk. “I guess it’d be a good time to get going, if I don’t wanna get caught up in that SWAT team you have a few miles out.”

“How the _fuck_ did you get that one,” Alec groans, but there’s no bite behind the words.

“Darling,” he rolls to his feet, “you have so many pages dog-eared in that book, and you used a parking ticket from three hours ago as your bookmark. You’re not subtle.”

Alec pouts, giving Magnus his best puppy dog look. “But I aced subtly classes in Quantico. What _ever_ will my professors think of me?”

The other man rolls his eyes, leans down, and plants a feather-light kiss to Alec’s cheek. “See you around, pretty boy.”

Alec ignores the blush forming on his cheeks. “I really prefer ‘darling.’”

“We’ll see,” Magnus winks before turning away. 

Alec watches him stroll back to the boardwalk, disappearing in the mass of bodies.

Magnus Bane.

 _Magnus Bane_ , he thinks, fingers coming up to his lips. _Magnus Bane._

He finds himself wishing Izzy’s call had been a bit longer as she makes her way back over.

To process, he tells himself. So he can gather his thoughts.

(He knows exactly what he doesn’t want to think about, and lets himself be glad for the distraction.)

“Who was that?” Izzy asks, brows raised, sirens sounding in the distance. There’s a suggestive smirk just waiting to grow, and Alec just picks up his book with a sigh. 

“Magnus Bane.” Alec refuses to look up at his sister, knowing exactly what he’ll see. “What did El want?”

“My expertise,” she says, flopping down next to him. “Now spill.”

“There’s nothing juicy.” A slight blush creeps up his neck. “He was trying to get info. So was I.”

Isabelle wears an expression that’s too knowing for his liking. “You could’ve detained him,” she points out.

There’s a hesitation to his response. “I’m crippled, remember,” he says finally. “Besides… there’s more to this than just Bane. Take him in preemptively and we could be losing something big.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut _up_. Plus,” he adds uncomfortably, “we get the next week to ourselves?”

Izzy just gives him a _look_. “Tell that to Agent Dickbreath over there,” she says, pointing to the SWAT team streaming onto the beach.

“Fine,” he admits. “Help me up?” 

She nods as the operation lead makes his way over.

There are two slips of paper in his pocket. The one handed over with the rest of the evidence simply reads:

> _Damascus Industries._
> 
> _Don’t underestimate the mob._

The other is nothing more than a sentence and a signature.

> _See you soon, Alexander._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all it's been a wild week. i tried to get this out earlier but guess which bitch managed to retrigger a wrist injury!1! that's right. i'm currently typing this out while wearing my brace and my hand isn't quite happy with that but. oh well.
> 
> we took the dogs to the beach yesterday!!! it was fucking hilarious. i wanna go to the beach with my friends cuz i'm a touchstarved little bitch who needs to be physically flattened by another person in order to soothe my soul, but we're in the middle of a pandemic and the US is dealing with it terribly B^)
> 
> we love being a lesbian with mildly to very homophobic lesbians. also weird guys who would come up to me and my ex while we were on a date.
> 
> questions! thoughts! concerns! please leave them :) i'm hoping to post once a week, now that i'm getting into the rhythm of this.
> 
> i'm [@hugducks](https://hugducks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! feel free to send me asks or prompts or anything that may bring you joy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec bumps into a certain someone during a late night coffee run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the author projects onto Magnus instead of Alec.

The fourth time Magnus gets away, it’s because Alec’s too busy on a different case.

It’s August, and Alec’s back to drowning in work. This time, it’s a liaison case with Organized Crime, and he can _feel_ Lydia basking in her natural habitat. 

He should be happy to be back, too. But the load is worse than when he had just Magnus on his hands, and the severity… 

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Camille, extra info on Morgenstern lackeys a few months later, and now Edom Industries? Magnus probably had a motive to give them all up, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. 

It takes a late night coffee run for himself and Lydia until he bumps into him again. 

_Take a walk_ , Lydia said. _Calm the fuck down_. 

Coffee was a bit of an afterthought. But not unwelcome, seeing as they’d probably be working for another few hours, trying to fit the latest piece into their puzzle.

He’s almost not surprised when he hears the telltale lilt of a certain thief at the same stall he frequents. But damn him, it’s nice to see the second of shock in Magnus’s eyes when he finally catches sight of him.

Magnus just rolls his eyes and jerks his chin towards a few secluded benches, waiting for company.

Alec picks up his order, and one for a Mr. MB.

“Are you ever gonna tell me how you keep getting my number?” Alec teases, holding out a coffee. “Or will that question be saved for court?”

Magnus accepts the cup – peppermint mocha, two shots of espresso and oat milk – with a tight smile, walking to a railing overlooking the waterfront. “A magician never tells his secrets, darling. Also,” he adds wryly, “you stopped changing it.”

“‘Cause it was getting annoying to replace every week.”

Magnus shrugs. “Tomayto tomahto. Less work for me.”

Alec rolls his eyes, squeezing his them shut against the incessant stinging that comes from the movement. He should probably go to sleep, or at least stop staring at screens as much. Or eye drops. He should really invest in eye drop. 

Lydia may have some?

“Of all the places, why get coffee ten minutes away from FBI headquarters?”

Amusement plays on Magnus’s lips. “Because I can.”

Alec snorts, and very decidedly doesn’t move to his phone. There’s a companionship between them that he doesn’t quite feel like fracturing just yet, not with the case he’s working right now. Besides, Magnus’s decisive lack of violence makes him a comparatively low priority when put against the big picture.

The silence is peaceful, a reprieve from the madness he plunged himself into. It’s also a perfect time to study the man next to him, drink in the way his blazer traces the sagged slope of his shoulders, eye the shadow of stubble lining his jaw. 

The circles under his eyes sport hints of faded concealer and his usually smooth lips are chapped. It hits him, then, and Alec kicks himself for not realizing earlier.

Alec’s the type of tired that’s caused by pouring over files, testimonies; a tiredness driven by a puzzle he’s almost solved. Sure, the past few weeks haven’t been the easiest on him – late nights with Lydia and early mornings in the archives could do that to a person – but it’s a tiredness easily cured by caffeine, sleep, and the thrill of the chase. 

Magnus’s tiredness is nothing like his.

It’s been steeping a long time, lying hidden below the surface. It permeates his smile, his twiddling fingers, stretching down to wrap around the very center of his being. Alec can see it in the fall of his chest, as if every breath is a struggle and can be knocked out of his lungs with the slightest nudge.

His tiredness isn’t a fleeting thing, born of a simple cause. It’s old, as if it latched on at a young age and grew with him. Became a part of him. It’s a wonder it doesn’t suffocate him where he stands.

Magnus isn’t tired. He’s _exhausted_. 

Alec doesn’t even realize he’s been staring until the other man gives him a short nudge. 

“Everything good?” His voice is rough around the edges, like someone took to his normal lilt with a piece of sandpaper.

Alec blinks himself out of his haze, holding up his coffee in response. “Long day, sorry.” He stifles a yawn with another sip, considering how much he should share with Magnus. Ah, fuck it. “We’re looking into Edom,” he says, catching the furrow of Magnus’s brow. “And you have information that we probably don’t and–” He cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his face. “You said they’d kill you. I just… I need to make sure you’re safe.”

A flicker. “I hoped you’d forget about that,” he says tightly. “I guess not.”

The fluidity of his shoulders quickly turns to stone, the warmth in his eyes giving way to a cold guard. 

Alec wants to reach out, comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.

It wouldn’t have done much anyway.

“Asmodeus is my father.”

Alec has to stop himself from dropping his cup. He’d guessed Magnus had a past with them, given his previous fears, but a _son_? 

If Magnus was truly the heir of a criminal empire, Alec doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.

Worry flashes through Magnus’s eyes and he hurries onward. “I didn’t know who he was when I was younger. He’d visit my mother and I every now and again, made sure I had the base skills required in his line of work. And then,” his voice catches, stumbling over rocky memories, “she died. And he was the only family I had left.”

 _Fuck it_. Alec closes the distance between them, pulling Magnus into a hug. The other man nestles into it, pressing his face into the crook of Alec’s neck as he continues, words muffled.

“The second I learned what Edom did… I knew I had to leave. But I was seventeen with precisely one skillset and expensive tastes. He didn’t want to kill his only son.” He looked up, breath mingling with Alec’s. “We made a deal,” he swallowed. “I stay out of his business, he stays out of mine. No working together, no going to the feds. He made it very clear that if I even _breathed_ in the direction of spilling his secrets, I’d be dead.”

Alec just gives him a squeeze, and Magnus folds himself into Alec’s arms. Alec can feel the tension leaving his body as Magnus slumps into the hug. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re going to be alright.”

He winces, not wanting to bring it up, but knowing he must. “I have to ask–”

“I’ll testify,” Magnus cuts in, voice steady. “I have enough witnesses to guarantee death row if you get him in custody. But Edom has enough people locked up that,” his voice shakes, “that I can’t get locked up. And I’m not going into WITSEC.”

Alec considers for a moment, then gives Magnus a squeeze. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nods, expression sober. “I can work something out.”

Magnus sighs, and Alec can’t tell if it’s relief or something else that paints the tone.

For a moment, they’re just two men swaying in the night, oblivious to the bitter cut of the wind. For a moment, Alec lets himself imagine, lets himself indulge those ever-present _what if’s_.

Their comfort is punctured by a harsh ringing (the only number Alec has to always go through), and Alec knows there’s something he was moving towards that’s just been broken. “I have to take this,” he whispers, slipping his phone next to his ear. 

Magnus nods, gently detangling himself, and takes a small step back.

“Go.”

Blood drains from Alec’s face as Lydia starts, throwing a hard list of information at him. There’s no room for emotion, no room for opinion; anything less than analytical coldness is too much.

And it would be, because Edom – the mob they’d managed to trace back to Damascus – had launched a hit to five safehouses and prisons for the simple reason that they could.

Twenty-three agents were dead. And that was only in New York.

“I have to go,” Alec manages to make out, already planning the fastest way to get to Organized Crime. “Edom–”

“Go.” Magnus straightens, focus overtaking his face. “They need you.”

Alec’s nodding furiously, already backing away, scanning the texts for any details he could find. 

And then he stops. 

“I’m sorry, Magnus,” he swallows, trying to search for _something_ and coming up completely blank.

Magnus let his head drop back, eyes screwed close against the soft glow of the moon. “A friend of mine–” he cuts himself off with a rough laugh, “–I guess he’s more like family, now. His boyfriend’s phone got cloned by accident, instead of his, and you can imagine his surprise when Alec Lightwood was a contact.” A shrug. “Your number’s hooked up to your insta account. I’d change that if I were you.”

Alec can’t do anything but stare as Magnus shakes the thoughts out of his head and swings his leg over the seat of a motorcycle, sliding the helmet on as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He looks back one last time, eyes heavy with the weight of more than Alec could begin to understand. “Go,” he whispers.

And so he does.

The note falls out of Alec’s pocket when he makes it back home at four in the morning, ops center still a scramble of agents. 

> _Thank you, Alexander. Stay safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Alec has an insta. No, he doesn't post anything other than pictures of Church.  
> Sorry for the #angst we don't deal with our emotions well in this household and I really need to get a different therapist.
> 
> But we're almost done!!!! I have a pretty good outline for the next couple chapters and I'm looking forward to this!!
> 
> I'm [@hugducks](https://hugducks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! Go yell at me or send me asks if u want.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Edom investigation ramps up. Alec doesn't get his usual note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting schedule, who's she?
> 
> Find me [@hugducks](https://hugducks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

The fifth time Magnus got away, it’s because Alec never really had him. 

It was a busy (but expected) night. The CIA was getting on their ass about Edom, and they were finally getting Interpol involved regarding some of their more global hits. Alec’s resigned himself to a long night, and is strongly considering asking Izzy to do a coffee run when Lydia strides through the room. 

The poorly concealed worry is stark against her usual expression, and Alec drops his files without a second thought. 

She holds up a hand, shaking her head, as he moves to ask her the expected question. Lydia slides the package across the table, not quite meeting Alec’s eye. 

“What is it.”

She grinds her teeth, calling over the OC case leads with a twitch of her fingers. “This was left on our doorstep.” She flips the package over, grabbing a nearby laptop. “It was addressed to you.”

Alec can hear the blood rushing through his ears, the dropping sensation in his gut. He rips open the package without a second thought, the pit in his stomach growing as he stares at a flashdrive no bigger than his thumb. “Did you run it through–”

“Simon made sure it was safe,” Lydia cuts in. “He’s trying to narrow down the place of origin but–” She groans, dropping her head. “Just open it.”

He grabs his laptop, shoving the drive in without a second thought. 

It takes him a second to realize. He’s used to this; ransom videos of some semi-rich kid, the dull routine of _family, money, getting them out_. Usually, the family is ready to drop the cash, if only to spirit away their child and attempt to safeguard them from any pain (though really, usually the kid gets themselves into the situation). It’s unfortunate, for those ones, that policy forbids them from paying up. 

But it’s Edom and something’s off and it takes a second and hits him in the gut.

Magnus. It’s not a random ransom video, it’s _Magnus_. 

His lips are cracked, eyeliner smudged. He’s the picture of a perfect kidnapping – hair greasy, unwashed, clothes rumpled and ripped. The harsh background only worsens the scene. Alec forces himself to _look_ , to see past the first glance. Okay. He can do this.

Magnus’s shirt twists around his arms in a way that suggests he’s bound by ropes below the cut of the camera. The wall behind him is made of beaten stone, but there’s a distinctive lack of grout. Maybe decorative? He’ll ask Simon to get on it. 

But there’s something that catches his attention, something comforting – Magnus’s eyes are aflame with a certain ire that Alec hates to say he’s glad to see. It’s been gone too long, but the circumstances are far from ideal. 

He locks eyes with Lydia, grabbing a notepad and a pen. She nods, and plays the video, keeping the timestamp visible. (It’s the first time in a while that they’ve run through this routine, and while Alec hates it with everything he’s got, some part of him feels slightly more at home.)

Video-Magnus rolls his neck, wincing as three large cracks break through the background static. His eyes flicker up to figures behind the camera – _two pauses,_ Alec notes – and he drawls, “Take three, boys?” There’s a thump, and Magnus flinches back. He quickly schools his face back into the casual annoyance, lips tightening into a thin line. “Fine.”

He squints slightly at what Alec guesses are cue cards, eyes flicking to the side once he’s done. “You already know who I am,” Magnus says to the camera. “Leave Edom alone.”

No preamble then. Quite unlike the thief. 

“They’re worldwide, yada yada–” Another flinch. His eyes dart to the side, coming back to glare behind the camera, and Alec _knows_ that if his hands were free he’d be flipping everyone off. “Honestly, they like the chaos. And you just pulled them out of the shadows.”

Magnus rolls his eyes, dropping his head back in a way that says _could they_ be _more melodramatic?_ "They're saying that you can drop a ransom for me, darling, but I don't recommend it. I'm more of a... safety deposit, I guess."

“You don’t have to back off. You won’t be able to _do_ anything. More of a nuisance than anything.” He stills, lips parting, eyes flashing in what almost feels to be betrayal. “But push much farther, and innocent people will die,” he says quietly, swallowing. “They’ll – they’ll start with me.”

The video cuts out, leaving Alec staring at a screen with panic in his eyes.

“Shit.”

The office is still bustling around them, and Lydia’s hand is already reached out to convey what words can’t, when–

“His eyes,” Alec snaps, restarting the video and cutting the audio. 

“What?”

“His goddamn eyes, Lyds.”

Lydia’s expression clears, and she grabs a chair, hunching over the laptop alongside her partner. They play the video again and again, listing the direction of his glances. Soon, their notes are littered with lists upon lists, classifying every last glance. 

“It’s not Morse code,” she finally decides.

Alec rubs his temples, slamming the pencil onto the table. “There’s something here, but I just can’t–” His words end with a groan, and he drops his hands into his face. Long gone is any idea of styled hair, and he’s sure his tie is somewhere in his bag. 

“Alec,” Lydia says calmly. “You’ve been working eighteen hours and haven’t had a proper meal in that entire time. You don’t have to fix everything.”

Alec sighs, looking up at Lydia through his fingers. “I’ll try to work this with Simon,” he says wearily. “I have the best shot at understanding any message that comes through.” He slips the flash drive into a smaller evidence bag, knowing Simon would probably love to work out the make and model. Anything that could help. 

Lydia gives him a knowing look, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll ask Iz to drop by,” she says, lips tightening into a not-quite-smile.

Alec nods, grabbing what little things he had. It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes guys, sorry for the deadass month it took for me to make this. Idk I wasn't really into this chapter, but this is kinda where it needed to go for the happy ending (there's a happy ending I promise).
> 
> Unfortunately there've been a few health issues that've popped up for me, so while I'm def gonna finish this story asap, I probably won't be writing as frequently anymore. 
> 
> Sorry for the shitty angst lol. But!!! I hope y'all enjoyed. Final chapter will be coming up in less than a month, I promise :)
> 
> Find me [@hugducks](https://hugducks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
